


Savouring the Seconds

by dreamsofdramione



Series: Fairest of the Rare's LoveFest 2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Secret Relationship, Smut, War AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/pseuds/dreamsofdramione
Summary: But she is alive and so is he, so they savour every moment of life they can spend together on the bleak nights when they’re both weighted down with the realities of their place in the war.#TeamAphrodite #LF2020
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Series: Fairest of the Rare's LoveFest 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642516
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	Savouring the Seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PacificRimbaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificRimbaud/gifts).



> Written for the Fariest of the Rare's LoveFest 2020  
> #TeamAphrodite #LF2020
> 
> Prompt: Theo x Hermione  
> I know I promised you a Librarian!Theo AU and this is definitely not it but I hope you love it anyway!

Gift Graphic by [@In_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_dreams/pseuds/in_dreams)

Covered in ash and nearly too tired to even keep her eyes open, Hermione stumbles into a safe house she knows too well. Even with distorted vision, she knows the third board from the door creaks and she has to walk on the right side of the staircase if she hopes to make it to an empty room unnoticed. There’s a master list back at Headquarters with all of the arrangements, who is in what safe house and when they’re scheduled to move, but the risk of that information falling into the wrong hands is too great to duplicate the list, and she’d come straight here after the botched mission. A small part of her hopes he’s here but, statistically, it’s rather unlikely. 

She hasn’t seen Theo in nearly three weeks. It’s been long and arduous without the comfort of his touch on the nights when she’s plagued with visions of prior missions. 

Death isn’t a concept Hermione is wholly unfamiliar with, but before the war that feels like it’ll never end, death had never been as tangible as it is now. She remembers the very first death she witnessed on a battlefield, and her heart still aches as she thinks of the twin left behind and the grieving family that will never be the same. Since then, though, many others have unfortunately followed suit. Now, death is no stranger to Hermione Granger. Death is an unwelcome old friend. 

But she is alive and so is he, so they savour every moment of life they can spend together on the bleak nights when they’re both weighted down with the realities of their place in the war. 

Even in the shadows, she recognizes the slump of his shoulders and the arch of his back on the makeshift bed in the corner. She doesn’t even have to announce her arrival beyond a muttered silencing spell before he stirs, turning to take in her haggard appearance. She should shower. She should clean the muck from the mission off her still-tingling skin, but that takes time, and she doesn’t want to waste another second. 

He must see it too. Their lips collide in a clumsy way and she’s grabbing handfuls of his shirt between muddy fingers as he grips her hips and pulls her down to straddle him on the bed. 

It’s times like these, when the war is so real she can taste it, that she needs him to show her that they’re still alive. And that there’s still something worth living for. If the grief swallows her whole, she’s no use to anyone, so she’s coping in the only way she knows how. 

He probably knows her body better his own by this point, familiar with the mangled mess on her arm and the smattering of scars along her jaw from a hex gone wrong nearly a year before. They’ve been doing this dance for months: meeting, snogging, shagging, and sometimes even fucking if the mood calls for it, but neither wants to acknowledge the implications of their arrangement. 

Despite the way her body moves with his as though they know the same secret rhythm, she knows it can’t last.

* * *

“Did you hear about—”

“Please don’t. Not tonight.” It’s too dark to see his features, but she’s sure she knows the look on his face. The wobble in his voice gives him away.

* * *

Dozens of marks have been carved in the haphazard calendar marked on the decrepit bedroom wall. One for each day of the war someone has spent in this poor excuse for a safe house. Pulling his wand from the bedside table, she watches Theo add one more. 

* * *

Blood slides steadily from her fingertips, mixed with the water that’s just a few shades from normal, and swirls down the drain in a pinkish blur. She can’t seem to look away until the rosy tinge is gone and even then, she keeps her hand under the scalding water in a feeble attempt to feel anything at all.

Lost in her own thoughts when the safe house rattles as the entry door slams shut, she doesn’t even move until his hands are on her hips and his lips are sucking promises into her skin she hopes can outlast the war.

The spray of the shower scalds the skin of her chest. He’s holding her like she’s something to be treasured, and his hands feel like fire as he rubs the tension from her shoulders. 

“We lost—”

Leaning back, she whispers, “I know.” He doesn’t need to say it. For her or for him. Neither one should hear it right now. It’s all she can do to take another breath with the weight of this loss sitting so heavily on her chest. She doesn’t tell him remnants of his friend's blood paint the pipes in the sink. He doesn’t need to know.

“I’ll have to go see his mom tomorrow. She’s staying with Andromeda now. Can’t say I blame her. The manor is forever tainted in my own memory. I can only imagine what she saw there.”

With one arm wrapped around her waist and his chin pressed into her shoulder, she lets him hold her for as long as he needs. 

The taps are cold when they finally separate and she turns to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Where most of their trysts are nothing more than quick shags and stolen moments to remind them that they are alive, living and breathing while their friends and family haven’t been so lucky, tonight is different.

He’s lost his best friend and she thinks she’s found a piece of him no one has ever really seen.

* * *

Some days it feels like there are just too many hours yet not enough time.

Draco’s service is small. His mother and Theo make up more than half the audience. Hermione’s there, too, with tears tracking down her cheeks and her hand wrapped in Theo's. She’s not sure if she’s there for Theo or herself, but she guesses it doesn’t matter much right now anyway.

It should have been her, but she can’t tell him that, so she stews in the guilt and silently thanks someone who was hardly even her friend for putting himself between her and a curse.

They’re still here when so many others have gone.

And she thinks there must be a reason for that.

* * *

Supplies dwindle faster than they’d expected, and the safe house she’s staying in tonight has nothing more than a can of beans in its single, shabby cupboard.

Hermione’s stomach roars for sustenance, and though she’s never been fond of beans, it looks like a feast at the moment. She can hear his clunky, sleepy steps as he makes his way down the stairs, and the pot is nearly ready when his arms slide around her waist in that old familiar way she’s come to know so well. 

“Kingsley wants us ready before daybreak.”

“I know.” It’s muttered into her neck as he nuzzles against her matted curls. Still sweat-slicked from their earlier romp, she knows they must be a mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Though she doesn’t quite believe it, she says, “I think this is it.” 

And if he thinks otherwise, he doesn’t say a word. 

Sometimes, she thinks, there’s power in affirmation, and maybe, just maybe, if they both think it to be true, they actually stand a chance for just that.

* * *

When the dust settles on the final fight, and the noseless megalomaniac is nothing more than a heap of robes, she swears the sun rejoices with golden rays bathing the wreckage of the battle. 

Well aware of his presence at any given time, their eyes lock from across the field littered with casualties from both sides in a gruesome show of the very essence of bittersweet victory. She takes a breath and thinks she can learn to live again. With him, whatever this next life holds, she wants to know what it’s like to have a life well-lived. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that [@msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin) is just the best? She puts up with my procrastination and finds time to read my things in the eleventh hour. I just adore her and cannot thank her enough for taking the time to alpha this piece. If you haven't yet, go check out her author profile and indulge in some of her wonderful works. Lots of love for [@nucklearnik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearnik/pseuds/nuclearnik) who found time to polish up this little piece for me, too!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr [@dreamsofdramione](https://dreamsofdramione.tumblr.com)!
> 
> THANK YOU ALL for reading! Comments & kudos **always appreciated!**


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